apocolypse singing on the orange-blinking road we took our ostriches down to nowhere. their eyes like marbel dungeons & their foot prints dinosaur-fossiling across the last boulevard. gravel & gear & grim evening. trees like monkey's paws. sachels full of soda tabs. we didn't think we would survive the ice zone or the lily waste. took no time feeling thankful & just kept knuckling. our dogs with their snake faces tasting citrus in the air or morsels. i could use a morsel. something dark & lime. someone sings just beyond sight. a kind of monsterous singing-- loud like a pipe organ & we are both made young & church-bound again. your face stain-glasses over. you stand still like a grave marker. your bird shaking you off her back. i'll soon have to leave you. the red all road. the road all red. i have nothing left to move towards but vibration & lichen feathers. you were a good traveler too but in this landscape face is made shatterable by simply the wrong memory. we used to eat from the hands of elephant men. we used to trust even the ankles of passing shadow-throwers & now here we are with our lists of departures. you don't even speak my name. i knock on your collar bone & it sounds wooden as a front door. nothing said nothing lost. my tongue twists like a barbershop poll. lingering is what kills you but also what makes you real. without lingering what am i but a bouquet of steps? the singing softens. think nothing of boy-girlhood or its velvets. i was never anything & neither were you.